


Control, Halt, Delete

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is back, but Lestrade's first name still surprises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control, Halt, Delete

Greg couldn't describe the feeling in his heart when his first name surprised Sherlock _again._ It was past ridiculous now, wasn't it, after the whole dying to save his friends thing? He expected snippy bits of abuse from the man, insults to his intelligence, and condescension in droves. But the not-caring was what always hurt. He could've sworn Sherlock had heard his name multiple times before, but he'd always acted surprised to hear it.

Although...acted. It could have been an act, yeah? 

But, no. Greg could tell when he was acting, usually.

Greg excused himself. He stood in front of the sink in the bathroom at the pub, messing with his hair just a bit as he thought about where he stood with Sherlock. It was so stupid to be there with Sherlock and the rest; he didn't belong. Just because Jim Moriarty had decided Lestrade was Sherlock's friend didn't make it true, did it?

That cute Molly Hooper was out there. She really was quite sweet and very pretty. She also reminded Greg of himself. He would always be pining after Sherlock too. Though to her credit, at least Sherlock counted her as a friend now. He'd never be anything more than a colleague when it came to Greg. Greg couldn't help him fake his death. Greg could just follow him around and ask for his help and watch him be a genius. 

A distinctive pout had come across his face that rather pissed him off. He took a deep breath and willed it away. Maybe he'd just stick close to Mycroft and they could both remain stuck together, in that place where they wanted to be close to Sherlock but he wouldn't have it.

As Greg was nearing the table, watching Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and John all listen to Sherlock deduce things about some poor young girl over in the corner who'd likely been stood up, Mycroft rose and met him. 

"A word, Greg," he said, and the idea of a chat with the man he'd come to think of as one of his closest friends was rather appealing. He followed Mycroft over to an empty table for a moment, where not even Sherlock could hear them. And they sat with their backs to the table so he couldn't read their lips either, if he even cared enough to look.

"He deletes your name," Mycroft said gently, handing Greg his drink, which he'd brought over.

"What now?"

"Deletes. He'll take something he's learned and just, as he puts it," said Mycroft with a face, "'wipe it from his hard drive.'"

Greg was glad he was sitting down. He said nothing, mind reeling with the sting of such a realization. Of course. Greg was worth deleting. His first name was as unimportant as the fact the earth goes round the sun. He was always getting away with himself when it came to Sherlock, and it felt like he wasn't whole, not just then, like something had left him as it all sank in.

Mycroft carefully rested a hand on Greg's arm. "Oh, Greg. No," he said, voice steady.

Greg looked up, took a large pull of his drink. "What?" He knew Mycroft would explain. 

"It's not that he doesn't notice you. Don't you see? It's that he can't stop noticing." Greg still looked confused. "You were getting too close, and he couldn't have that."

"Too close? But I haven't done anything!" Greg protested with ache in the tone. He'd been very good.

"No, it's him. Before John, he didn't think much of friendship, or of any relationship at all."

Greg let those words sink in too, tried to make them fill the gaps left from moments before. He couldn't fill them all, but it came close.

"So. Okay." He looked to Mycroft for further guidance in it. It still wasn't clicking.

"You two would have become...friends...in much more obvious ways, if he hadn't deleted your name and put space between you deliberately."

"But why? Why'd he do that?" he couldn't help the stupid look of distress that came over his face. He took another drink to help will it away.

Mycroft shrugged. "It's a mystery," he said "Sherlock is Sherlock. Why does he do anything? Try not to take it too personally. And ask him, if you want." He shrugged, and Greg got the distinct impression he was supposed to ask. 

Greg turned to look over his shoulder at Sherlock. He tossed the rest of his drink back. "Okay," he said. 

"Now," Mycroft said, "I have a very early morning tomorrow. I can give you a ride home, if you aren't planning on staying."

Greg turned to look at Sherlock as he interacted with his friends.

"He's changed. Perhaps for the better," Mycroft said, standing. "Absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah," Greg said with a sigh. He'd missed Sherlock very acutely. "He almost doesn't seem real," he muttered.

"Did he ever seem real?" Mycroft quirked a brow. He waited to see if Greg wanted to continue in that vein, and moved on when there was only silence. "Would you like a ride home?" he reminded Greg.

Greg stood, taking his empty glass in hand. "Yeah. I'll ask him when we're not celebrating his glorious return." He grinned at Mycroft and paid his tab.

***

"Hey, before you head home, can I ask you something? Not case-related," he added at the way Sherlock looked as he was about to respond.

Sherlock followed Greg quietly to a new spot. They'd be unheard.

"Your brother thinks you 'delete' my name when you learn it. I mean, that's alright, it's up to you," he swallowed, "but I'd kind of like to know why? If you don't mind telling me."

"I mind, a bit," Sherlock said after a moment. He was surprised at how pained Greg looked at that. "It's not personal," he said, trying for reassuring.

"I get it. John's a lot braver than I am, isn't he? More interesting too."

"What, I have to call you Greg to be your friend? I never have before, and Moriarty almost killed you for me." He looked a bit smug. He always did, when it came to Moriarty.

Greg shrugged. "Well, there's a difference between deleting my name and just not using it, isn't there?" He wasn't sure what the difference was, but it seemed to be there. 

Suddenly, Sherlock reached out for the DI's hand, holding it up.

"Sherlock?"

"You finalized the divorce?"

"Ages ago." He scowled. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Maybe I—"

"Deleted it. Right." Greg ran a hand over his face. "Or maybe you didn't care in the first place."

"You're upset with me."

"Yes. I'd just like, just once, to be worth remembering." Greg sighed. "Never mind. I'm really, really glad you're back," he said kindly with a sweet smile and pain still in his eyes. He began to leave, but Sherlock reached for his hand again, brushed the tip of his finger over the place Greg's ring had been for so long. Greg froze.

"Maybe I couldn't stop remembering," Sherlock said, eyes dark. 

Greg swallowed. "Whassat?"

"You're a reasonably intelligent man," Sherlock said lowly. "Tell me what I mean. I'm holding your hand, aren't I?"

Greg's mind stopped. What Sherlock was really doing was rubbing aginst the base of his ring finger, but he wasn't going to argue. "Did you maybe...care too much? Not decent and all, since I was married."

Sherlock smirked. "Mm," he said in agreement.

Greg curled his hand into Sherlock's. "I've always been interested in you," he managed to choke out. "Very. Things with Linda weren't...."

"Mm. Yes, I know."

"Sherlock, _please_ stop deleting my name," Greg said softly.

"Alright, Greg." Sherlock released the hand. "Well, I'm going to stop deleting important things about you. Or trivial, however you look at it. But, yes, I'll stop."

"Alright. What," he cleared his throat. "What does this mean then, Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiled his wild smile. "I have absolutely no idea. The entire situation is unprecedented, isn't it, and completely foreign to me. We'll have to take it one step at a time. I'm not going to be very good at this." He was still smiling.

"Yeah, well, I'm a bit rusty too. And I'll be stupid compared to you; we already know that." Greg chuckled, gazing into Sherlock's incredible green eyes.

"Two stupid men fumbling around. Sounds a bit dull, doesn't it?"

"You're going to eat those words, Sherlock Holmes," Greg said. "It won't be dull at all."

Sherlock gave a non-committal, "Mm." He began to leave. "See you later, Greg." 


End file.
